


The Return of The Pookie

by bedlinens



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:42:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedlinens/pseuds/bedlinens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While working on a multi authored story for Nine Lives, I was struck with this idea. Hope you enjoy it: When in Alexandria, has life goes back to normal, Carol's nickname for Daryl makes it reappearance, much to Daryl's delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Return of The Pookie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Another drive, another day. Aaron and Daryl had a list of things to pick up as long as the day went on, and most of the items felt very much of the same vein of the infamous pasta maker.

However, Daryl was okay. He didn’t mind. Hell, he was even smiling.

“Okay, what’s with you?” Aaron asked with a smile.

“Nothing.”

“I call bullshit. And you know I’m good at reading people.”

Daryl flipped him the bird, which made Aaron laugh, knowing he was on to something.

If he had been able to read Daryl’s thoughts, he probably would have cooed or done something that would have forced Daryl to tie him to a tree with his guts out.

Before they had left, Carol had done it again, for the first time in a very long time.

She had said: “Stay safe Pookie.”

And Daryl just couln't keep the happiness he felt everywhere in his being.

It was their thing.

When they had taken in the people of Woodbury, those the Governor had left to die, they had created a second home, a wider community for them all, but it had come with its challenges. You couldn't go anywhere in the prison without bumping into someone, and the elders had a tendency to want to get to know you which had been unnerving to Daryl.

Nobody had wanted to know him before, before the group and Atlanta, and the first couple of months in the prison, the new arrivals hadn’t been the chatty type.

However while many things had changed, some things had remained the same, like the way he felt when he was near Carol. Merle would have laughed him out of the room, but when Carol was around, Daryl hadn’t been so unnerved by the questions which had poured about him. He hadn’t answered those, mind you, but he hadn’t felt so bad keeping his story to himself when Carol would change the subject because she had known as she knew now how he felt sharing with strangers.

They had gravitated toward one another, and at one point, Carol had developed a new habit, which had caught him by surprise beyond words: she had taken to calling him "Pookie".

He had only had one nickname before, Darylina, so when Carol had called him Pookie for the first time, it had surprised him, even blindsided him. He had felt like he had been struck by lightning. He had wondered what he should read into it, or if he should be reading anything into it at all.

Then again Carol hadn’t called anybody any cutesy names, except Judith who had always been her sweetie or her honey, and Carl who sometimes would get the buddy treatment.

The first time it happened, they had been at the council with Hershell and the rest, discussing arrangements about how best to accommodate everybody. Daryl didn't speak much during that meeting, except when they talked about the overcrowding and the need for space. They had decided to clear out another block of the prison, and he would be in charge with Glenn of clearing it.

Carol had said, calm as you please and like she’d been calling him that forever, "Which block do you think will be the easiest to clean, Pookie?"

He had been left speechless, as if his brain had frozen, and Glenn had saved his life by suggesting a block, and Sasha agreeing. Hershell had looked at him for his input and he had only nodded, since Glenn had not made a stupid offer, and it had been decided.

In his experience, a pookie had to do with meth, a pipe of some sort if not a bong, but he had known instinctively that Carol hadn't meant that at all. He also vaguely remembered Merle talking about a girl's pookie, and it hadn't been poetry, but once again, this was not what she had meant.

He had found out soon enough what she had meant, upon hearing an elderly couple talk to each other, the woman calling her old husband "pookie", as he called her back something equally fluffy and sugary.

"What did you call your husband, ma’am"? Daryl had asked, needing to make sure he wasn't delusional.

"Pookie. It's a term of endearment, young man," the woman had said. "I still love that old fool. In my time, you only called your husband or wife Pookie, but I think my granddaughter, God have mercy on her soul wherever she is, used to call her boyfriend Pookie, too."

He had nodded and left. A term of endearment, meant to a husband?

There was no way in hell Carol had meant it that way, right?

He had tried to forget about it, thinking that perhaps it had been a one-time thing, and he hadn’t wanted to hang onto it too much.

When they had been done cleaning the block and they had come out of the tombs with the team covered in blood but safe and sound, Carol had come to him and taken him in, checking for injuries.

"Are you okay, Pookie?" she had asked him.

"Nine lives," had been all he said, but his heart had been doing weird things in his chest.

And so it had become a thing. She called him Pookie.

He had wanted to smile every time she did, but he would only give her a look, that she understood, because it was all that was needed with them. The nickname was the cherry on top, and he had had very few of those in his life, cherries or cakes to put the fruit on.

It would brighten his day. Whenever he had left her after a "Pookie", he had felt like the luckiest man alive.

"Mister Dixon! Mister Dixon!" he once heard behind him.

Patrick had been running to meet him. The kid was looking up to him just a bit too much, it would make him feel uncomfortable.

"Your wife said to remind you that there was a council meeting tonight," the boy had said.

"My wife?"

"Carol. I'm sorry, sir, I assumed... She calls you "pookie" and..."

"I won't forget the meeting," Daryl had said, feeling elated.

The boy had run back to Carol, and Daryl just hadn’t been able keep the smile off his face. People had heard Carol call him that, and they were drawing conclusions he was extremely comfortable with. He wondered how many more people thought the same, and he found himself wishing they were plenty.

He had wondered if Carol knew that some people thought that they were a married couple, and he had been almost certain she did. She had always been observant, and she must have known when she had given him that nickname that it had been like staking a claim on him. First time he didn’t mind belonging to anyone. Carol, she made everything okay. It was just who she was.

So this morning, when Pookie had made its reappearance, Daryl had internally jumped with joy. He had missed that nickname so much.

He searched his brain for a nickname to give Carol, too, something that would let her know everything he didn't know how to say. He had hopes a nickname would be able to sum up all he was feeling. He was crap at waxing poetry, but maybe a nickname would do the job. They had been through so much together and apart. It was just a matter of finding the right one, and enjoying every time she called him Pookie. Power of a name…


End file.
